Kawatche
by Legacy of the Phoenix
Summary: Clark uses the better part of his time to help the local Kawatche Tribe with their many contemporary issues. But even with everything he can do, is it enough? Shares continuity with "Balance", "Transfer", "Discovered", and "Beast". A hint of Clyla.


It's no question that the Kawatche, like all Native American tribes, have suffered from the raw end of the stick for generations. Being assumed as being a vanishing people is a serious one, but perhaps the very least most harmful one.

"_**I'm not working with these people! **__**I quit!" **_

_**"Stupid Injun!"**_

_**"Yo, Redskin!" **_

_**"They're just mascots! Quit crying about it!" **_

_**"What, you're gonna make a big deal and get all teary-eyed because we're littering?!" **_

_**"Why don't you go back to your tepee?!" **_

_**"What're you gonna do?! Scalp me?! Hit me with a Tomahawk?!" **_

_**"H**__**ey, baby! Come over here and be my Pocahontas!" **_

_**"Too late, man! She's already my Sacagawea!" **_

Many white men, most of them young, heckle, mock, and insult the Kawatche because of the nature of their heritage. Generalizing and victimizing them to no end. Even pushing and roughing them up as they see fit. Completely relentless and utterly remorseless.

* * *

"_**That casino's gotta go! It's a stain on our heritage!" **_

_**"We need it for the tribe!" **_

_**"It's a reason why people are racist!" **_

_**"He stole that money! It was meant for the tribe! Our people! He took it for himself!" **_

The gambling industry has been a mixed bag for the Kawatche as well. Some believe it will bring about destruction upon their culture. Even that it perpetuates the stereotype that all American Indians gamble or get rich off of casinos. Others, somewhat correctly, consider it a necessity to fund schools and hospitals for the people. Just as evident, there is talk among the Kawatche Tribal Council concerning corruption in the casino, particularly where the handling of the profits and the needs of the tribe are concerned. Nothing has been proven, however.

* * *

"_**You wanna hit, you gotta pay. This time, more. That's right." **_

_**"Yagh!" **_

_**"Help! Mommy!" **_

_**"No, stop! Get off me! Agh! Agh!" **_

_**"Freeze! Don't move!" **_

_**"You know we can't hold them! It's a felony! Let them out!" **_

_**"We can't do it. Sorry." **_

_**"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more useless!"**_

Crime. Crime is one of, if not the, biggest problem plaguing the Kawatche. At least, for the ones that live on the reservation. Drugs flow like a river of poison as a result of those who sell it. Cocaine. Heroin. Methamphetamine. Many of the dealers are not White, but most of them are. White and Kawatche men alike often create serious problems on the reservation. Vandalizing. Breaking and Entering. Domestic abuse. Child abuse. Not to mention…rape. Many Kawatche girls and women are mercilessly raped despite their attempts to fight back. And while there is a law, the enforcement might as well be non-existent. The limited Tribal Police Force cannot detain the white men who break the laws of the reservation due to them not being residents. And also, because they committed felonies, which cannot be prosecuted by Tribal Law. Only misdemeanors. This goes even for Indian men. They commit a felony, they get to walk, too. Of course, the FBI has a hand in the work of the Tribal Police, but they have a tendency to poorly investigate a case or have a handily convincing excuse for why they won't pursue a serious matter. Unless of course, it involves someone White.

* * *

_**"N****_o_! No! My baby!" **_

_**"You told me you quit! Shut up! I deserve it!" **_

_**"I love you, Grandma."**_

Tragedy seems to have no end on the reservation. Many youths, the majority under 18, see no future. No hope. So, they commit suicide, devastating their families. Alcoholism seems to be an even greater infection. Contributing to not only violent behavior, but also an even greater death toll. Surpassed only by the incalculable amount of diseases and health epidemics that are on a terrifyingly high scale. Cancer. Tuberculosis. Diabetes. Heart diseases. Every day is a Black Plague for them.

* * *

"_**No! no! no!" **_

_**"Agh! Agh! Oh!"**_

A sickness just as crippling as the physical is the mental one. Trauma. Historical. Intergenerational. In both cases, prior family members involuntarily pass down the harmful memories of long-past strife, pain, and suffering that has fallen upon the Kawatche people. In many cases, this is the origin, the root of the tribe's problems. The alcoholism. The drug abuse. The suicides. Anything and everything that has contributed to their less-than-ordinary way of life. To the state of their culture. Every waking moment an emotional, agonizing one. There are remedies, however for this. Singing and praying in their native tongue. Purifying each other via the practice of burning sage, cedar, or sweetgrass. Locating psychologically competent members of the tribe, or culturally sensitive non-members of the tribe, and undergoing the empowering attempt at breaking through the painful psyche of the Kawatche.

Hope is a very foreign word for the tribe. Some even consider it just a fantasy. A desperate way to sleep at night. But…whether they know it or not, hope is very much existent. Tangible. In the form of one boy. One very unique teenage boy. One who is not Kawatche, but nonetheless has a very special connection to them. A boy by the name of Clark Kent.

* * *

"Where's your war bonnet? You're not gonna fight me without it, are ya? Hey, baby! I'll be your John Smith!" On a sidewalk, three White bullies harass a young Kawatche couple who only came into town for a snack at The Hot Java. The boy steps in front of his girlfriend to defend her just as she herself takes out a bottle of pepperspray to protect him in turn.

"Back off!" The Kawatche boyfriend raises his fist.

"Or what?!" One of the white bullies grabs him from behind and drags him into an alley as the leader follows him and the last one tries to grope the girlfriend.

"Piss off!" The girlfriend sprays the last White boy in the face and kicks him in the groin. She takes off after her boyfriend in the alley, where he is held in place and repeatedly assaulted. "Hey!"

She attempts to spray one of the other young White men, but he surprises her and wrestles the spray out of her hand.

"Come here!" The White leader slams her against the wall and rips part of her shirt, exposing the left cup of her black bra, and forces his face on her neck despite her attempts at fighting.

"Hey!" The Kawatche boyfriend elbows the other White boy in the face and gets free enough to force the White leader off of his girlfriend and punch him in the face.

"Why you-" The White leader tackles the Kawatche boyfriend to the ground when the latter attempts to punch him again and begins to repeatedly punch him in the face. "You're the reason I lost my job at the store, you red piece of crap!"

"Stop!" The girlfriend tries to intervene, but the recovered White boy who got elbowed grabs her by the hair to restrain her. As if things are not bad enough, the furious third White boy shows up to get some revenge by unzipping his pants. Just then, however,

"Get away from them!" Clark shows up in the alley to intervene, causing all activity to stop.

"Get lost, Kent! No one wants you around!" The White leader barks.

"No. _You_ don't want me around. And _they_ don't want _you_ around. So, we've got a problem." Clark clinches his fist.

"No, _you've_ got a problem." The three White young men leave the Kawatche couple and menacingly approach Clark with the intent to beat him up, too. However,

"Ow! Oooh! Oh! Yow! Hey! Dagh!" Using the most restraint he has ever been able to muster in his adolescence so far, Clark applies bare minimum speed and strength to overpower the three young White men with pushes, throws, a sweep kick, and a few ducks and parries to avoid suspicion to his nature. By the time he finishes, the three young white men are finished.

"Walk away." Clark glares at them.

"Ergh!" The three boys are too hurt to get up quickly.

"Walk away!" Clark raises his voice; scaring them into helping each other up and running away collectively and quickly. The young farmer then turns to face the Kawatche couple and with genuine compassion, assists them by way of holding the boyfriend's arm and the girlfriend's right hand, "You guys gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks." The Kawatche boyfriend nods in gratitude. "We only wanted to get off the rez and eat something, you know?"

"Well, they probably ran into the Hot Java and they've got more friends in there. Last thing you need is another scene." Clark offers, "Let me take you to my farm. My mom makes the best apple pie and we got fresh milk, too."

"You already helped us. Don't do that." The girlfriend remarks.

"I want to. Don't let a couple of racist jerks ruin your appetite." Clark insists and introduces himself.

"Nice to meet you, Clark." The boyfriend shakes his hand, "I'm Quentin Red Eagle."

"I'm Chelsea Bixby." The girlfriend shakes Clark's hand.

Moments later, Clark has taken Quentin and Chelsea to his family's farm, where, as promised, his equally compassionate and accepting mother makes both Kawatche youth a fresh glass of milk with two slices of apple pie each. Clark engages the two in friendly conversation and they have a laugh.

* * *

Sometime later, Doug Longbow, the owner and founder of the local Kawatche casino, _**The Red Buffalo**_, laughs without shame on his ranch as he looks at his ledger, having once again skimmed off of the profits of his Casino. Stolen from his own tribe yet again. He drinks lite-beer with fellow Kawatche and friend Max Langdon, with whom he shares the profits.

"When're they gonna learn that it's every man, or girl, for themselves? Ha Ha!" Doug takes off his glasses.

"They _can't_ learn! That's why they're still where they are!" Max cruelly chuckles as well.

WOOSH! Both men are caught off-guard by a sudden, strong breeze. Clark stands before them with a stern facial expression, having heard their entire conversation as well as the earlier argument Doug had with the Tribal Council.

"I don't usually get in this deep with your tribe, but…wow. I wonder if any of _my_ people are like that with each other."

"How'd you get in here, kid?" Max asks confused.

"Don't answer that. Just get out." Doug reaches for his ledger,

WOOSH! He is shocked to find the ledger suddenly out of his reach despite seeing them on his table not but a millisecond ago!

"Looking for this?!" Clark holds up the ledger.

Doug and Max stand to their feet and stare at him with fear and surprise, becoming alarmingly and immediately aware of the fact that he is not a normal kid. They both take out guns and open fire on him.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Click! Click! Click! Neither Doug nor Max miss a single shot but are flabbergasted when they realize that the boy is invulnerable. That their bullets are now mushroomed. And their respective guns are now empty.

"What the he-" Doug does not get to finish.

WOOSH! "Agh"! Doug and Max are both snagged by Clark and dragged onto the Kawatche Reservation, where they are left bound and gagged in front of the Tribal Police Headquarters with both the ledger and a note (attached to Max's arm) that reads, _"It's true. Longbow's been stealing. This is the **real** ledger. Let the Feds deal with them. If they give you problems, like they always do, don't worry. I'll know."_

* * *

Clark is in overtime lending a hand to the Tribal Police in order to diminish the widespread crime on the reservation. He begins with drugs.

WOOSH! WOOSH! WOOSH! WOOSH! Having found a group of young Kawatche snorting cocaine in a backyard, Clark speeds each and every one of them to the inside of the Tribal Police Headquarters Jail with zipcuffs on them. The Tribal Police immediately recognizes this as a means to force them to kick the drugs out of their respective systems.

* * *

"Pony up." In his own house, a young Kawatche heroin dealer readies to sell his product to three younger men.

WOOSH! TEEEEEERZ! Clark grabs the dealer and in slow-motion, uses his heat vision to burn his entire stash of drugs before he drops him off at the Smallville Sheriff's Station with heroin still in his hands, wanting Sheriff Ethan to intentionally catch him with it and knowing about the Tribal Police's limitations when it comes to felonies.

* * *

"Single file!" A White methamphetamine dealer readies to sell his product to a group of youngish Kawatche men and women.

WOOSH! TEEEEERZ! Clark locates him and repeats exactly what he did with the Kawatche heroin dealer, confusing Sheriff Ethan.

* * *

"Shut up!" Bam! A Kawatche man punches his wife to the floor. He grabs her by the hair when she tries to crawl away as she cries. He readies to hit her again when his son jumps on his back to stop him.

"Get off me, boy!" Smack! The man flips his son over his shoulder and onto the floor before he gets him up by the shirt and backhands him back onto the floor!

"Sweetie!" The Kawatche wife grabs the boy and coddles him as she looks up to her husband in fear as he readies his fist again.

WOOSH! Clark speeds in and in slow-motion, grabs the man's fist, the back of his shirt, and throws him towards the window.

SHATTER! "Dagh!" The Kawatche man goes right through the window and lands hard outside, falling unconscious as a result. His family are slightly, just slightly, more confused than they are relieved. However, before either of them could blink,

WOOSH! Clark speeds them both to Smallville General Hospital to be treated for their injuries, not wanting their abusive patriarch to track them down at the reservation clinic.

* * *

"Lying! You're lying!" A White man viciously punches his Kawatche wife onto the floor and begins strangling her!

"Agh!" She reaches for an ashtray with the intent to defend herself.

"Oh, you want this?!" The White husband snatches it out of her reach and raises it threateningly. "Where?! On your face?! Huh?!"

WOOSH! Clark speeds in and in slow-motion, breaks the ashtray with the White husband still holding it!

"Dagh! Dagh! Agh! Ow!" The husband holds his hand in excruciating pain and agony.

WOSH! Clark suddenly stops his momentum and taps the husband on the head, rendering him unconscious.

"No! No! No! No!" The Kawatche wife tries to crawl away from Clark out of fear and shock.

"It's all right! It's all right! It's okay! It's okay! He's still alive! But he won't hurt you ever again!" Clark gets ahold of her and uses every ounce of his compassion and patience to calm her down and talk to her. She finally ceases her frantic flailing and looks Clark in the eye, realizing that he is a genuine soul. Clark pays special attention to her due to the fact that she almost perished and would need a friendly face to get her out of shock.

WOOSH! He picks her up and speeds her inside of a vacant, closed hospital room at Smallville General. He again promises,

"You'll be okay."

WOOSH! He speeds out of the room, leaving her in a state of surprise, but also relief.

* * *

WOOSH! Clark stops some Kawatche youth from vandalizing more property.

* * *

WOOSH! He stops a gang from breaking and entering into a home to steal some money.

* * *

"Help! Help me! No, stop! Help! Help!" One night, a partially bruised young Kawatche woman is dragged out into the edge of the woods by two young White men. One holds her down while the other rips her dress and unzips his pants. Just as he is about to begin his horrible misdeed,

WOOSH! Clark knocks him against a tree ten feet away, rendering him unconscious.

"What the-?!" The second young White man lets the girl go and throws a punch at Clark.

KURCH! Clark easily catches the assault and throws him against the same tree as the other one, rendering him unconscious as well. He picks up the shaken, bruised Kawatche girl, "Don't worry. I got you."

WOOSH! He drops her off in yet another closed, vacant room at Smallville General. He takes one more caring look at her before he speeds out of sight.

* * *

In the loft, on the couch, a barefoot Kyla massages Clark's shoulders as she tells him about what she has been up to lately concerning her training with her powers and her ultimate victory over Lionel.

"…full wolf-woman like my Mom." She continues, "She could've done it when she fought Mark, but…she admitted she probably would've lost control and mauled him. I probably would've with Luthor if she wasn't there."

"So, what'd Lionel do this time?" Clark asks, referencing Kyla's uncontrolled attack on the elder Luthor in the previous timeline.

"Basically? Came clean about not being blind for the last month and promised to let Miller's Bend go. Said he'd take his business to Edge City like Lex suggested." Kyla sneers in triumphant excitement. "Lionel Luthor. Giving into blackmail. Who'd thought we'd see the day?"

"Kyla Willowbrook. Unsung hero." Clark remarks with a grin.

"And I'm not the only one." She whispers into Clark's ear, "Everyone in the tribe's been talking about some...weirdness the past week. A mysterious force righting the wrongs of the rez. Even scared some Feds straight."

"There's…there's just _so_ much going on there." Clark shakes his head in thought. "I knew that getting started, but still. Gotta wonder if I'm doing enough good."

"Ck…" Kyla ceases massaging his shoulders and begins to instead rub the back of his hair and neck, "…you know your history. The problems of my people, and pretty much every other tribe and nation in Indian Country, are rooted. Deep. _Real_ deep. It's not something even _you_ can clean up in less than a month or so. It's a process. It's gonna take time. And a _whole_ lot more work. But if anyone can make a difference, for us or really anyone, it's you…_Naman_."

Kyla and Clark share a passionate kiss.

* * *

While Kyla is off exploring the caves with her grandfather, Clark resumes his crusade on the Kawatche Reservation. He quickly finds that for some of the more sensitive issues, he is either little help or, tragically, no help.

"No!" WOOSH! TEERZ! Clark sees a young Kawatche boy try to commit suicide by hanging himself from the branch of a tree but catches him and severs the rope with a controlled burst of heat vision. The boy is not conscious, but he is alive. This is the third suicide he has prevented, but it seems all for naught as two of them have managed to take their lives once he had left them.

* * *

"Hmm." Clark sighs in genuine sadness when he walks up to a car and finds that a Kawatche woman has paid the ultimate price of alcoholism. He opens her door and seven empty bottles pour out. He gently takes the woman's body out of the car and sprints slower than he normally does out of respect.

* * *

Later, Clark pays his respects to a middle-aged Kawatche woman, Jane Black Knife, who had succumbed to tuberculosis recently, at the nearby graveyard. Clark had actually known her a little and, not unlike Cassandra Carver, she had known what he was long before they met. Had seen him before they met. Clark would see her in town every now and then and lend her a hand. He at one point even went with Kyla to her house to talk history about the Kawatche and the hope she had for the future. Even hers. Clark relented another sad sigh.

* * *

Clark displays a heartbroken facial expression when he uses his super-hearing to hone in on the Tribal Elders' attempts at healing a young Kawatche boy, who is suffering from intergenerational trauma, by way of burning sage and singing in the Kawatche language.

* * *

That night, Clark eats quietly at the kitchen table, tore up over the fact that despite all his power, all his strength, he still cannot help the Kawatche with some of the more serious, internal problems they are suffering from. Unable to accept this, once he finishes with dinner and the dishes, he hops onto his computer and begins to research, in detail, all of the things that plague the Kawatche beyond the physical. Even if he does already have a base idea of it all.

* * *

The following day, a little after noon, Kyla waits with Pete and Chloe in the Kent Barn, wondering when Clark will show up due to his calling them all there. They finally see him arrive…with Lex.

"Sorry to make you wait, but I had to give a good enough pitch for this guy here." Clark remarks.

"And what a pitch it was." Lex looks to Clark. "Maybe you should consider a position at the company. Show some of the so-called pros how it's done."

"What kind of pitch?" Kyla wonders.

"To help your people." Clark grabs her hands.

She looks to Lex and then back at Clark, _"Babe, Lex is not his Dad, but he still has a reputation. The tribe won't accept his help. Even if he did bail my granddad out."_

"Don't worry about that, Ky. We covered it during the pitch." Clark winks.

"We're gonna do this in a way that makes it look like your people are helping themselves." Lex explains, "And make a little profit. Just to be honest."

"You mean just for your Dad. Don't act like you barely care, Lex." Clark grins.

"Yeah. And I never got to thank you for giving my family back their business." Pete shakes Lex's hand.

"Of course." Lex nods and asks Clark, "So, Clark. When do you wanna get started?"

Clark turns to Lex with genuine seriousness, "Now."


End file.
